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Lyla hadn’t even known she’d been in the house. She shook her head, having brushed up on some basic manners. “No, thank you. Have a good night.”
A smirk lit the other girl’s lips. “Oh, I will.”
Okay. That was odd.
“Oh, and whatever you do, please don’t go into the greenhouse tonight.” Nikki said on her way. “There’s a storm coming.”
There was something off about the way the girl said it. A weight that hadn’t been there in days settled in her stomach. Her mood dampened, she quietly cooked her way through the meal, the scent making her mouth water. She put the servings on two plates and popped them in the oven to keep them hot, putting the rest in a serving bowl that she placed in the oven too. Then she cleaned all the pots and pans she’d used, setting them aside to dry.
And then, with everything done, she went to the closet, put on some warm leggings and a sweater, pushed her feet into sneakers, and walked out the main door.
The cold wind assailed her face as she looked at the dark sky. The moon and the stars were hidden behind thick clouds, and the helicopter was on the helipad, covered by something she couldn’t see too well. The garden on the other side was dark too, everything except the greenhouse with one light on.
She couldn’t see anything since the plants covered the glass. Tugging the sleeves of her sweater over her wrists, she briskly walked to the greenhouse, needing to know why the other woman had told her not to go there.
The ground was relatively flat on the cliff, just a gentle downward slope, and she covered it in minutes, slowly coming upon the main door that was open.
Her body froze.
Nikki stood naked in front of the long table, her hands holding Dainn’s shirt, his hands on her waist.
Ice filled her veins as she took in the sight, her few weeks of relative happiness crashing as she realized she was discarded again. He hadn’t touched her in all the days he’d had her under his roof, and that was because he’d already had someone. And Nikki had hated her on sight because she’d been with him.
God, she was an idiot.
Nikki’s eyes came to her, triumph glistening in them, and Lyla exhaled through her mouth, unable to control the burn in her eyes.
Suddenly, his neck turned, his devilish eyes finding hers.
Lies.That’s all they said to her. Lies.
She was done. He could eat the fucking pasta with Nikki and laugh over her feeble attempts.
Fuck him.
With that thought, she turned on her heel and ran down the hill, uncaring of where she was going, the only thought in her mind escape. Tears ran down her face, and she knew her reaction was not warranted. He’d never told her he was hers, only that she was his. He’d never told her that he’d not been with others, just like she’d been with others. The only difference, and the one that hurt the most, was that she’d never had a choice and he'd always had it. And for a moment, she had believed he had chosen her, but he’d not.
Plan.She was a part of his plan, and he was giving her only enough to keep her willing and under the illusion of happy.
Fool, fool, fool.
No, she would get to the village somehow, and hitch a ride somewhere, anywhere, away from all the emotional turmoil.
As her feet gained speed downhill, her lungs and legs burning due to the exertion she wasn’t used to, something heavy tackled her from the back.
A scream left her throat as she went down, thinking it was a wild animal, and whatever the weight on her back was twisting at the last minute to save her the brunt of the fall.
Heart pounding in her ears, she caught her breath, struggling to get free from the weight that was under her, before suddenly finding her hands locked behind her back, her jaw locked in a tight grip, and her eyes locked with the devil’s.
“What the fuck, Lyla?”
The tone of his voice made her still, the fact that he called her ‘Lyla’—when it had always been ‘flamma’—making her realize he was pissed. And he was never pissed, not with her at least.
Thunder rumbled in the sky, throwing her back to the first time they had met in the dark, alone in the woods, with a storm coming in. That moment had changed her life, and she looked down at him, everything she’d been holding up for weeks, months, years, crashed inside her.
Every single time she’d been hurt, every time she’d been debased, every time she had hoped for something only for it to die, every time she had stared at the ceiling counting cracks, every time she had cried herself to sleep, every time she had given him a piece of herself only to feel discarded, every time she had lost parts of herself until she didn’t even know who she was anymore.
Every. Single. Time.
